


Heating Up

by JoansGlove



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-07 08:22:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11619672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoansGlove/pseuds/JoansGlove
Summary: Joan books another private session at the spa....An homage to Heat and Heat II





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DefyingNormalcy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DefyingNormalcy/gifts).



> Dedicated to DefyingNormalcy. Happy birthday my dear, dirty girl XXX

The reception area was eerily quiet as I let the door click shut behind me. I must admit that I expected her to be waiting for me at the broad marble reception counter but her post was deserted. A disappointment, but no matter, I was sure that she’d make an appearance soon enough.

 

Entering the echoing changing rooms the pleasing scent of cleansing products underscored by a faint note of chlorine greeted me and I mentally congratulated Patricia on her diligence. If I were being scrupulously honest with myself I’d be forced to concede that it wasn’t just the well-appointed amenities offered by this spa facility that had me looking forward to the next three hours. I’ve always had a fondness for plump girls - especially ones who can take orders so well - maybe that was why I had paid over the odds for the indulgence of this unscheduled late-night admission.

 

Ahhh, it felt so good to take my hair down from its customary bun, it was getting long again and the extra weight always tugged at my scalp leaving it tight and sore by the end of the day. I couldn’t help but groan with relief as the blood rushed back beneath my gently circling fingertips. I quickly slipped out of my uniform and hung it in the spacious locker alongside my mac, setting my shoes neatly beneath it. Sealing my underwear in a Glad bag, I tucked it into the pocket of my holdall, and then I stretched some of the tension from my knotted muscles. The armour of my crowns helps to protect me from attack but it can sometimes weigh heavy after a long skirmish, and tonight was no exception. More importantly, however, I needed to wash away the residue of stinking toxins that always clung to me after an encounter with Derek Channing. I swear that man exudes a palpable miasma of filth that contaminates everything it touches.

 

The hollow ring of high heels on marble made me turn. Ah, here she was, here was my buxom brunette, so perfectly packed into her tight uniform. I felt glow of anticipatory arousal flush through me as my gaze lingered on her inviting curves before settling on her pretty, doll-like face.

“Oh, ah, Ms Ferguson!” she stammered as she hurried over to greet me. “I’m so awfully sorry that I wasn’t there to meet you at reception. I was just readying the steam room.” 

She blushed so prettily that I couldn’t be too stern with her, in fact, I found that I was on the verge of smiling. “Thank you for your apology, Patricia, but of course, I was disappointed nonetheless. I just hope that your employer appreciates the sacrifices you make to satisfy his customers. I acknowledge what a daunting task it must be to ensure that all of this tile is as clean as can be, but,” I paused and held her gaze as I slowly unbuttoned her blouse, “rest assured, it’s not a thankless one. Now get undressed. Quickly.”

 

My clit pulsed strong and hard as those firm breasts of hers jiggled. Mmmm, she was most enticing.

 

*****

 

It stung my professionalism knowing that for the third appointment in succession I had failed to greet this most important guest properly. I prided myself on first class service, but this was the second time now that she’d arrived early and unannounced – it was if she enjoyed seeing me flustered. And I _was_ flustered! I tried so hard not to stare at her amazing body as I obeyed her beckoning finger, but failed miserably.

 

As soon as she popped the first button on my blouse I knew that I was lost. By the time she’d tugged it open I was finding it hard to stand, so strong was the clenching in my cunt that my brain couldn’t cope with even simple commands like staying upright. In a daze, my fingers found my waistband and I clumsily pushed my trousers down, tugging at the damp fabric that caught between my trembling thighs as I staggered the few steps to the marble bench.

 

The jolt as my arse smacked against the cool stone vibrated through my swollen clit and I gasped as I was caught in another delicious spasm. I saw how Ms Ferguson’s lips parted in a knowing smile and I blushed as she appreciatively eyed the dark stripe in the centre of my underwear. A few seconds more and I was as naked as she was and wobbling my way back to my starting position.

“Are your hands clean?” she asked. I nodded and held them out for inspection. “Then you may brush my hair before we start,” she produced a paddle brush from her expensive leather toiletry roll and sat down expectantly.

 

Her hair was so soft! Nothing like my own robust curls that were the bane of my life. I could have brushed that ebony mane, shot through with veins of spun silver, until we were both old women, but judging by the torrent of slippery excitement flowing from my cunt right now I might well end up wizened and dehydrated long before then! The chemical scent of hairspray mixed with a sharp note of antiseptic rose from her spangled locks and I wondered what she did for a living, perhaps she was a consultant at one of the local hospitals – that would certainly explain her odd hours.

 

“That will do.” The muscles in her shoulders bunched and flexed under her softly freckled skin as she pulled her hair into the nape of her neck and twisted it into a loose coil over her shoulder. I shivered as the ends whisked across my breasts and spent a very pleasant moment imagining what it would feel like to have her hair tickle the inside of my thighs, totally failing to notice that she was signalling for the brush.

“Are you tired, Patricia?” she asked rising from the bench.

“No, not at all!” I gasped, I could feel myself blushing again, “just, umm…”  
“Umm, distracted?” she supplied with a knowing twist of her ruby lips and grinned wickedly at my guilty nod. “I find that a shower helps focus the mind wonderfully. Off you go,” she instructed, dismissing me with an amused flick of those dark eyes.

 

Whilst Ms Ferguson would stop a little less than biological warfare to ensure that her surroundings were spotless, she demanded all-natural ingredients to wash the day’s grime from her delicate skin, and she demanded the best too. Just one bar of the hard-milled soap that she stipulated we provided cost half of what I earned in a day! The black-haired amazon watched me intently as I lathered myself up, a lazy finger playing seductively back and forth along her lower lip. I spent much longer than necessary rubbing suds into my breasts, my bum and my slippery snatch but it felt so damn good and Ms Ferguson really didn’t look like she was about to complain anytime soon!

She’d removed her make-up and, in amongst all the other things that were going on in my brain right now, I was struck by how much younger she looked – but no less commanding…

 

*****

 

It’s funny how a naked, nubile girl can take your mind off all of your worries, and believe me, I have plenty, but, at that precise moment, all I cared about was the building tension between my thighs – and how best to enjoy it.

 

Pulling her out of the cone of spray I stepped under the strong, hot jet and luxuriated in its steady bloom of heat as it pummelled some of the aches from my neck and shoulders, relishing the feeling of it coursing down my back and my buttocks, sluicing over my breasts to flow along the curves of my belly and my inner thighs. When I opened my eyes, Patricia was standing before me, wash bar and flannel in hand. I smiled in genuine pleasure at her intuitiveness.

 

I know that my tolerance of another’s touch can be a very subjective thing (not that I care to waste time analysing how or why) and, even though this pneumatic nymph was a relative stranger, she aroused in me a desire for a degree of intimacy that I rarely permitted.

She started with my hands, working the flannel between my fingers, massaging each one with a deliciously erotic slowness that left me curiously relaxed and light – and extremely wet. Holding my gaze, Patricia primed my skin with the wash bar and spread its soft lather with the rough cloth. I felt myself awaken and I gave myself over to her veiled touch, swaying as she covered every inch of my body with firm, soapy hands.

 

She wasn’t just washing me though, she was teasing me. I was teasing myself too. Reaching out for support, my palms found the tiled walls of the spacious cubicle and I thanked the Fates as the girl’s deft hands worked their magic. As she became bolder the glancing brushes of her firm curves became more pronounced, as did the level of attention paid to my more extravagant and intimate curves, and I allowed myself to yield to the responses they produced, building a tantalising swell of arousal but refusing to allow it to break free and wash through me with abandon.

 

Sinking to her knees she lifted my feet, one by one, into her lap and cleaned them like a modern-day Mary Magdalene. Closing my eyes, I threw my head back and let the hot water soak my hair, the added weight tugged gently on my tingling scalp. The sensation of the flannel sliding provocatively over the swell of my inner thigh and the caress of the hot water made me sigh in pleasure, then she slithered up my side until she stood before me, probing my swollen sex once more with slow fingers and shining eyes.

“I want to kiss you,” she said in a firm voice, lifting her face up to mine.

“I imagine you do,” I teased and tangled my fingers in her hair, holding her immobile as I traced her lower lip with mine.

“Can I?” she asked breathlessly.

“No.”

“No?”

I drew away and smiled at her confused frown. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to kiss her, I did, but it would be at the moment of my choosing. “No. You don’t deserve to… yet.” She was like ripe fruit, and I would taste her bounty again, but not now, now was all about receiving her abundant pleasures.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

The steam room was already sweltering but Ms Ferguson added more hot stones to the basket before closing the door and dousing the rocks with a ladle of water. She’d wrapped her hair in a towel and she looked like some high-priestess making an offering to her gods as the steam billowed around her. I would willingly lay down on her altar, no matter what the reason, just as long as she killed me with a kiss.

She came up silently behind me as I was laying out thick, white towels on the recliner and pulled me against her, her large hand covering my throat as she nipped at my sensitive earlobe. “Hot enough for you?” she whispered in my ear. Fuuuck! Did she have any idea what that did to me? Another slick of excitement oozed between my swollen lips and lubricated the tops of my thighs.

“Yes,” I managed to croak.

 

Reaching behind me I grasped her wide hips and snuggled into her, feeling the damp tickle of her pubic hair in the small of my back and her full breasts pressed against my shoulders. She responded with a seriously firm tweak of my nipple that had me writhing against her in a micro-second. She held me tight as I squirmed in increasing pleasure then, abruptly, her hand tightened around my throat and she lifted me until I was on tiptoes, the back of my head pinned against her chest. Her fingers were dangerously tight around my windpipe and it felt so fucking good! I will do just about anything that a physically forceful lover demands of me as long as it’s for our shared pleasure, it’s the one area in my life where I willingly relinquish control. I didn’t even know her, but she had already managed to bypass all of my internal security protocols and had assumed the dominance I require.

 

*****

 

Playfully, I toyed with a strand of her hair. The curl fitted perfectly around my finger, just as my hand fitted perfectly around her pretty neck. Gods, she felt so good leaning against me as she fought for balance and for air.

 

“There was a little girl,” I whispered heavily into her ear, making her shiver and moan, “who had a little curl,

Right in the middle of her forehead.

And when she was good,

She was very good indeed,” I paused and dropped my hand to one of her glorious tits, giving it a deliciously slow squeeze.

“But when she was bad,

She was - ”

“ - Even better!” cut in Patricia hoarsely.

 

“That doesn’t rhyme,” I told her and lifted her fractionally higher.

“So…?” she retorted insolently, a salacious grin forming on her lips.

“So, we can’t have that now, can we?” I released her and pointed to a nearby chaise-longue type affair, an incongruous piece of furniture for a steam room I thought, but rather handy nonetheless. Patricia covered it with thick towels and obediently took her place. She looked up at me with those large, tawny eyes and I had to repress the desire to drag her straight back to my place and tie her up.

 

“Have you already touched yourself today?” Patricia nodded. There was no embarrassment in her clear gaze. “How many times?”

She took a moment to respond, using that time to stare lasciviously at my nakedness. “Three.”

“And all because of me?” She nodded again. “Are you sore?” I asked.

“Delightfully so, Ms Ferguson,” she replied.

 

******

 

She made me masturbate for her. She made me sit opposite her and show her how I got myself off. And no fantasies, she ordered, I was to look at her the whole time. And if I was good, she said, then perhaps she’d let me be bad too.

 

Obeying Ms Ferguson's command I drank in the way her body moved as she settled into her recliner. She looked like a queen. My fingers found their way to my tits. I was so turned on that my whole body shook just remembering how I had touched every inch of her, and as my eyes lingered on her flushed curves and angles, an insistent sensation pulled at my very core, like the slow, deep and grinding grumble of an earthquake.

 

She studied me intently with her piercing black gaze as I twisted my dark nipples and slipped a hand between my wet thighs when the pulsing in my clit became too much to bear. She clearly enjoyed what she saw for her long fingers settled on her breasts and began to chafe her rosy nipples. Of course, this only served to get me more excited and I started to fingerfuck myself, trying to prolong coming as much as possible in the hope that she would drop a hand between her own legs and touch herself like she had on our second encounter.

 

It was getting hard to breathe, I panted hard and fast but the thick, hot air seemed to have no oxygen, especially when she drew up her knees and exposed soft, plump lips hiding behind a gauze of sticky black hair. Sweat pooled in the valley of my breasts, beneath their heavy swell, in every crease and hollow I had. It ran, smarting, into my eyes as I stared this astounding woman, blurring her magnificence, until I was forced to squeeze them tight against the sting.

 

I hovered on the edge of orgasm, trying to slow my fingers enough to ease its warning grip but always failing and finding myself teetering on the point of no return, my raw membranes crying and singing at the same time with every thrust. I wanted to touch her so badly! I needed to stroke her glistening skin and smear my fingers in her sweat, in the silky wetness that gathered between her legs; I needed to feel her mouth on me as I rode my fingers. I needed her to hold me when I came.

 

*****

 

Ahhh, what a feast for the senses!

The intense heat invaded me, seeping through my muscle and sinew, soaking into my bones, renewing the erotic charge that had built so easily within me. My swollen sex purred with delight as I squeezed my legs together tightly, savouring the sensation as they slipped against each other on a cushion of sweat. I felt both powerful and languid and I stretched my whole body, luxuriating the mixture of tension and release it conjured.

 

Her breasts were mesmerising. They shone in the concealed lighting, so round and pale, her large nipples shrunk to the size of 50 cent pieces. How good they would look with heavy marking from a crop, or sharp teeth…

The tightness of my own nipples triggered a deep ache in the centre of my breasts and my throbbing clit responded with an echoing tug, it felt so good! Gentle rubbing of my sensitised areola inflamed the aching tug just as I knew it would and I clamped my thighs together, crossing my legs to intensify the pressure on my sweaty, slippery snatch.

 

I’ve so often thought that waxed and shaven cunts look like vague pink smears from even a moderate distance (my own included) but Patricia’s was pleasingly well defined, dusky like her nipples, darker still between her plump outer lips with just a tinge of pearly pink peeking out at me. She looked good enough to eat, and a vivid image of me plunging my tongue deep between her folds sent burning waves of lust through my very core. Ohhh fuck! I wanted to touch myself! I satisfied my need with sharp pinches to my nipples, the sudden, electrifying shocks arrowing down to further inflame my swollen sex and increase my delicious torment.

 

And the noises she was making! But she held my gaze throughout, no small feat considering the level of her arousal, and in her eyes I could read her needs, her desires, her wants and hopes. Finally giving into my consuming desire, I opened my thighs a little and lightly stroked my sticky, wet skin, shivering with pleasure as my fingertips grazed the sodden strip of hair that sealed equally sodden lips over the hot, pulsing meat of my cunt.

“I’d like you to come for me, Patricia.” Her dainty fingers flew to her clit and she let out a series of guttural moans as she jerked and stiffened against the unforgiving seat.   

 

*****

 

Effortlessly rising from the low lounger, she approached me. I watched, totally mesmerised, as she swung a fabulously long, pale leg over me, her elegant foot resting on the seat arm, and pushed her wet cunt towards my face. Still breathing hard from my shattering climax, I stared at her glistening folds and inhaled her animal scent, sighing happily as, with a husky ‘ohhh’, she slowly rubbed thick juices into her swollen pinkness, and my clit fired off a cascade of aftershocks that had me squirming beneath her.

 

The look in her glittering black eyes let me know that I was hers; that at this moment she would do whatever she wanted, whatever she needed, because it was her right. And I had absolutely no complaint with this situation at all. No, none whatsoever. I wanted to be used by her.

Her large hand cradled my head as she positioned my mouth just so on her clit and began to rock against my tongue. As she moved, sweat rolled down her lean body, bleeding into the glossy sheen that coated my own overheated skin. Large, heavy beads fell like the first raindrops of Monsoon from her hanging breasts, anointing my forehead, splashing onto my shoulders, feeding the steady trickle that followed the course of my generous cleavage.

 

She tasted so good! Of sweat and sweet, earthy musk. I struggled to breathe as she forced my face hard into her thicket of silver and black hair but I loved it! I loved being at her mercy, servicing her, being consumed by her…

“Touch me,” she muttered. My fingertips grazed her silken hollow. “More,” she demanded, her low voice quavering with need. Teasing her hole, I dabbled my fingers in her soft entrance, barely moving them as Ms Ferguson's hips undulated, then every few seconds swiping them up to meet my tongue as it flickered over her impossibly swollen clit. She hissed and grabbed the seatback for support as my fingers slipped in and out and around her sodden hole, pressing hard against my mouth, her silken thigh straining and trembling against my hot, sweaty cheek.

 

******

 

Fuuck, I was so close! I could almost see it, a half-glimpsed mass gathering in the sweet void. The bass note of bliss wrought by Patricia’s blessed fingers boomed through my body as her tongue generated frenzied arpeggios that chased through my senses until there were no more notes left to play, and suddenly I felt the swell cresting, breaking, washing through me with devastating force. I rode the soaring, shimmering peak until my whole body was shaking under the strain but I couldn’t let go of the exquisite sensation! I had to stay with it until it broke and released me from its iron grip, leaving me to tumble downwards, to be caught and buoyed up on the next surging wave, and the next until at last I had some meagre command of my body once more.

 

I truly hadn’t expected to come so hard and it had caught me quite pleasantly off-guard.  But my surprise wasn’t my main priority right now, what mattered most at this point was maximising the honeyed caress of the afterglow as it flowed seductively through my senses. Lightheaded and giddy I climbed off Patricia and knelt by her side, grateful for the seat’s support as I ran my trembling hand over her sweat soaked breasts. She moaned softly and pushed out her chest, stroking my slippery forearm as my fingers slid lazily towards her throat. Again, I thrilled at how well my hand fitted around her soft neck, and at how she subtly increased the pressure with a brief touch to the back of my wrist.

 

Her coral lips parted as I traced the contours of her cheek and jaw with my thumb. She was so plump, so taut, so full of youth and beauty, and I felt blessed to have discovered such a delightfully dirty girl. She brought out my impulsive side and I liked that, so much of my life was spent planning and preparing, and working to schedules and milestones that sometimes I forgot that life could be lived for the moment. Moments like this were few and far between for me, I’m not one for making friends, or making a habit of picking up strangers, but sometimes you get a feeling so strong, so right, that you have to give in to it.

“Do you still want to kiss me?” Patricia nodded, her eyes widening in anticipation. “Then you may.” She scanned my face briefly, a hint of hesitation making her bite her lip in a most fetching manner, before leaning over and pressing her mouth to mine, parting my lips with a flick of her agile tongue and inviting my own tongue to dance. I made her do most of the work, but our kiss cemented in me a desire to see just how far I could take this dalliance with Patricia. I wasn’t looking for a love affair but I was perfectly open to a mutually beneficial understanding developing between us.

 

******

 

Releasing her damp hair from its towel, Ms Ferguson led the way to the outdoor plunge pool. Weak creature that I am, I couldn’t tear my eyes from her impressive backside as it swayed and jiggled with each easy stride. The faint scars that I’d discovered earlier stood out against her pink skin like pearly veins in rose marble and I knew exactly what they were, and I wondered how she had acquired them.

“Fuck it’s cold!” I gasped as the chilly June air hit us. I could see the Southern Cross glittering faintly above the glow of the City and the clock on a distant office block declared that it was 1:05.

“It’ll be even colder in a second,” she grinned and pushed me into the pool, leaping in beside me and surfacing with a loud whoop of exhilaration. Jesus fucking Christ!! I must have shrunk by at least two dress sizes in that freezing water!

 

My nipples ached painfully as they contracted and I sucked in air between instantly chattering teeth. I couldn’t bear the numbing cold and scrambled up the shallow steps to the fluffy warmth of a waiting robe, but when I turned around Ms Ferguson was still treading water.

“God, you can feel it doing you good, can’t you?” she grinned up at me before disappearing beneath the ripples again and sinking to the bottom where she lay, her dark hair feathering out around her head and her arms outstretched, for what seemed like ages before, pushing herself up into the night once more. Only her tightly crinkled nipples indicated that the water she was cheerfully splashing about in was less than 4oC and I was honestly impressed by Ms Ferguson’s fortitude. She was like some goddess, commanding and conquering the elements around her.

 

Part of me laughed at myself for being such a hopeless romantic, turning her into some kind of wondrous, celestial being when really, she was just a woman of impressive presence who apparently wanted to fuck me in the way that I love most. No, she wasn’t ‘just a woman’, she was much more than that I told myself, she was devastatingly attractive and sophisticated with it, obviously wealthy, and with a streak of arrogance that made me weak at the knees.

 

Vapour boiled from her skin as she leisurely made her way out of the pool, dismissing the robe that I held open for her with an appreciative grin, and headed inside. She turned left towards the changing rooms and beckoned to me through the glass wall. What could I do? I followed.

 

Pausing to strip me of the robe, Ms Ferguson looked speculatively at the door leading to the hot tub before guiding me to the shower stall, still moist from our previous activities.  “Will you be needing the hot tub after this?” I asked as the warm jets flattened my curls. That tub held special memories for me now and I dearly wanted to be able to make some new ones as soon as possible.

“Perhaps, I don’t know yet,” came her reply. “Maybe the hot tub, maybe bed.” She surveyed my surprised (and confused) response with a raised eyebrow. “Whom can tell?” she murmured in an amused voice.

“But who in whose bed?” I asked, daring to hope.

“Again, whom can tell, the night is not yet over,” she grinned wickedly, and slammed me against the tiled wall, knocking my ankles apart before sliding three fingers unceremoniously into my dripping cunt.


End file.
